Listen
by BakaVSAll
Summary: Jack's been in solitary confinement for a long time, and he tells the story again. But who exactly is listening? (Rated K Plus just in case, based on the flash puzzle platformer "The Company of Myself.")


_Hello. My name is Jack. I've been here for... quite some time now. I know that I deserve to be here. I know that I will most likely die here. And I know that, for the most part, the rest of my life will be spent alone._

_Being alone, a person can only do so much. Sure, one can contemplate on their existence. Sure, one can feebly attempt to do something good, just for a small glimmer of hope known as redemption, and a smaller glimmer of hope to reenter society once more. Then again, I'm stuck here alone. No one to see that I'm trying to change. It's a tough struggle trying to do anything that anyone outside of here takes for granted. Walking, being able to use a bathroom without constant but unknown supervision, even seeing the light of day more than just a tiny, barred window... Doing these things normally is a luxury I'll never experience again. You might say it's sad. I'd call it justice._

_Before, a man always comes in here once in a while, and I always tell him the same story of what I did to wind up in this place. I never really tell him anything else aside from the same story. That is the highlight of my life... When I lost Kathryn. When I ended her... In comparison, there's nothing else I would want to say. I could have talked about my magical performances, or perhaps I could ask something instead of repeating the story over and over. But... I can't help but to continue thinking about it._

_I wouldn't say me and Kathryn were... in a relationship. I find those terms to be quite arbitrary. You could have said we were a special type of family, or unofficially married. My feelings on the matter wouldn't change. The point is, I love her, and she loves me... well... loved me. The worst part of it all... I killed her, but I couldn't see her. I couldn't feel her. I couldn't smell her. I definitely couldn't taste her. But... I only faintly heard her. We were separating... As we were going home. I pressed a button, and just like that... she was gone. Maybe it's the medicine that I was taking that made me think that I killed her with a push of a button. Maybe it's my delusions... though they only truly started here in this room I now must call home. Maybe I actually murdered her and stuffed her in a green box, and just wipe my memory with a fabricated story. Maybe I did just press a button to kill her. I don't know anymore._

_However, with any scenario I come up with, the same result comes in. I'm... I'm a murderer. I don't know how. I don't know why. I could start asking questions, but who am I going to ask? No one is planning on visiting me anymore. Not the shrink. Not any of her friends, let alone mine. And most certainly, not her. And furthermore, what is the point of asking questions anyway? I know I'm not getting an answer, even if there was someone here. But frankly, I know to expect that._

_In honest truth... the process of me ending up here is a bit foggy. I don't remember... I know the medicine made me forget... a lot. That's undebatable. It also hindered me from remembering what was going on. I don't know if what I'm seeing now is reality or fantasy. I just know that my days, however many, will be spent here. And all those days, there's only one person I will ever think about. Kathryn..._

_The more I think about Kathryn, the more I might end up regurgitating the same story again. I feel like I was about to tell you what I told that doctor once a week for eight years again, like my voice is being echoed. That I was going to just tell you how I lost Kathryn. About how much I love her. About the following days of just... feeling alone. And about the days become weeks, becoming months, becoming years. And soon, if my body won't fail my dead spirit, becoming decades. Because of these stupid medications, I was cursed... Instead of just writing me off and sentencing me to death, I was sent to a psychiatric clinic, where they locked me up in this room. And with those eight years, the only thing I was able to do is wallow in misery and continuously think of of her._

_I did it again... You know what? I don't think I have anything else to say. I might as well as told you my entire life. But now... now is the time that you should go. I'm sorry that I'm going to do this. I want to be alone again. It seems that I can't even speak to you anymore. So... goodbye. Please visit another day, so I may tell you my story again. And-_

_I hear some people..._

"Uhh... What was that patient doing?"

"You mean Patient 112409?"

"Yeah. Who was he talking to? There's no one there."

"He was talking to himself. Remember the food you gave him?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"He used his fingers to rearrange his food into a face. He was talking to his food."

"Really? He's right though... it is kind of sad."

"Isn't it? He only killed one person, and it's more than apparent that he regrets it. One person is one too many, yes, but there are some truly crazy people out there in the world who killed plenty of people, who's let out after about a year or two, only to kill more people."

"I've... never heard of that."

"Yes, you have. The funny thing is, it's the normal ones. And everyone, you included, continue to disregard what the normal ones have done."

"What do you mean?"

"Riots that claim innocent lives. Police brutality to stop those riots, when all those officers want is to beat their own problems away. Wars led by people who don't understand the individual. Mass killings originating from true psychopathy rather than a man being drugged up. That's just how life is."

"Yeah. And while we did pin him to the murder, no one knows what he did. Autopsies even state that the unknown causes of death were to stay that way. Maybe he should be let out..."

"While we can't do that because he's still considered too 'dangerous to society,' you can't help but to feel terrible. Man, it must suck being him... By the way, I was going to ask you about Penelope..."

_I guess they walked away. No one really knows that I'm listening to them. Maybe it's because no one wants to listen to me unless they're eavesdropping on me. And even if they believe that I shouldn't be here, I do. And no amount of believing will change anything. Not me being here. Not Kathryn being alive. And... Not you being an actual person. Well, you overstayed your welcome. Hope to see you next time... Maybe next week... Goodbye._

Gulp


End file.
